


A True Scotsman

by tartanroyaltea



Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Kilts, Scottish wedding, Smut, Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 22:16:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2749106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tartanroyaltea/pseuds/tartanroyaltea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>OFC has a hearty kink for men in kilts (but then, who doesn't?!) and is driven to distraction at her brother's wedding. Fortunately, Tom is suitably attired.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A True Scotsman

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU!Tom in the sense that he is not an actor.

I’m really not a fan of weddings; they’re always a bizarre combination of boredom, discomfort and severe second hand embarrassment (usually involving drink, dancing, and elderly family members). Fortunately, at my brother’s nuptials, I had found a source of  _great entertainment_ to get me through the day _._

He was tall, well over six feet, lean without being scrawny, and he had the prettiest head of ginger curls (complete with glorious goatee) that I had ever seen. And, best of all, as a groomsman, he was required to wear a kilt, which showed off his lovely, long toned legs to perfection. Now, if only I could find out what was underneath the kilt.  _Is my ginger dreamboat a true Scotsman?_  I wondered. I decided to make it my mission of the night to find out.

 

Unfortunately, I hadn’t been paired with Dreamboat- okay,  _Tom_ \- to walk down the aisle; that pleasure had gone to Elsa, my new sister-in-law’s bitchy little BFF. The lucky cow. Still, I used the configuration to my advantage, and made sure to swing my ample hips to the best effect for Dreamboat, who was just a few paces behind.

By the mercy of all the gods and deities in existence, I had been placed beside Dreamboat at the head table; sadly, my annoying cousin Callum was on my other side, but I knew he wouldn’t interfere with my conquest once he’d had a good guzzle of the champers. Elsa was seated to dreamboat’s left, so I had a bit of competition. All the better.

We exchanged a few pleasantries in the lull before the speeches and dinner, mostly about the wedding ceremony and how  _wonderful_  it had been. Tom was one of Mikey’s uni friends, but as he’d gone south to study, I didn’t really know many of them- Tom included. If I had known about him beforehand, you can bet your ass I would have bullied Mikey into introducing us.

Fine crystal trilled, and the best man, Rodney, finally stood to give his speech. I watched Tom out of the corner of my eye, only half paying attention to what Rodney was saying. When a particularly lurid tale of my brother’s university exploits arose (a story not fit for my mother’s ears), I gasped quietly. Tom turned his head towards me in question, but when our eyes locked, I fluttered my lashes and bit my lip; an expression full of impish suggestiveness. Tom didn’t look away for several, searing seconds, but when he tore his eyes back to the best man, I distinctly noticed the tendons in his jaw flex.  _Bingo, we have lift off_.

“All right everyone, you’ll be happy to hear that dinner is served!” Declared my brother, at the close of his speech, waving in the team of waiters.

“Everything looks positively  _mouth-watering_  don’t you think, Tom?” I asked coquettishly, placing my hand on his forearm.

Tom cleared his throat. “Ah, yes. It certainly does.” He was watching me intently, perhaps already wise to my games. I couldn’t have that, not yet.

“Bon appetit!” I said, giggling and clinking our glasses together. Tom smiled in return, showcasing his lovely teeth and dimples.  _Wow, just when I thought you couldn’t get any prettier. I was hungry before- now I’m fucking starving…and this roast just isn’t going to hit the spot._

I waited patiently until the dainty little dessert puddings had been laid out, before implementing the next stage of the plan. ‘Accidentally’ dropping my napkin onto the floor, I leant down to fetch it, with my face coincidentally coming into very close proximity with Tom’s crotch.

“Sorry. So clumsy,” I explained apologetically, shaking out my napkin and placing it over my lap again. I looked away too quickly, but I could have sworn Tom’s eyes narrowed a fraction.

Surreptitiously shifting my chair a bit closer to Tom’s, I lifted the table cloth and pulled it outwards, so that it disguised a little bit more of us.

Suppressing the jitters, I cautiously reached for Tom’s knee under the table cloth- just a light graze at first. He flinched and inhaled audibly, and I froze, fearing I may have made a mistake.

“Tom, are you alright?” Elsa enquired.

“Yes, fine, thank you. I just bit the inside of my mouth. So clumsy,” he responded, his voice wound noticeably tighter. I quashed a smile and placed my hand back onto his knee, but not moving it just yet.

I waited several minutes before carefully gliding my palm up his thigh by several inches, nudging the heavy woollen tartan aside, all while maintaining a _fascinating_  conversation with Callum about ice-fishing in Alaska.

I couldn’t resist chancing a glance at Tom; his rich blue eyes darted towards me for a moment, but I ignored the heat of his gaze and took a dainty sip from my champagne flute.  _You think it’s me touching your leg Thomas? Don’t be absurd, I’m Mike’s innocent, adorable little sister. I’d never do such a thing!_

“Tom, are you listening?” Elsa asked, her voice squeaking with terror at the prospect of losing Dreamboat’s attention for even a second. Tom cleared his throat, shaking his head slightly before re-focusing on her. I smirked into my glass and raised my hand a little further up his thigh; I was heartily impressed by his thigh muscles- he clearly worked out.

Tom’s knuckles turned white where he gripped the edge of the table; I curled my fingers around his inner thigh, grazing slightly with my French-tipped nails, and stroking casually back and forth with my thumb. I was approximately halfway between knee and crotch at that point, and everything was going swimmingly.

Up…up…my hand continued moving higher and higher at an agonizing pace, as I cruelly enjoyed the torment that I was inflicting upon poor Dreamboat.

 _So close…_  Tom’s leg was trembling slightly beneath my hand, as I made the final ascent-

“Alright folks, now that dinner’s settled a bit- it’s time for the ceilidh! Everyone grab a partner and get out on the dancefloor!” The DJ crowed.

_Damn._

The music started up and I whipped my hand out from underneath Dreamboat’s kilt as if I had been burned. I swiftly turned to my (by now very drunk) cousin and asked if he would be my dance partner.

“ _Delighted_ , little Kit,” he slurred, staggering to his feet and bowing with a flourish. I laughed and took his hand, allowing him to lead me out onto the dance floor, where everyone was arranging themselves into a multi-pointed star formation. I noted with gratification that Tom positioned himself and Elsa directly opposite Callum and I - optimum view point.

Away we went, swirling and jumping and circling until the sweat was sliding off each and every dancer. I conceded defeat and returned to my seat, carefully touching up my melted-off makeup with a bit of powder. Tom’s stamina was impressive; he was one of the only people who had danced for all of the sequences so far.

I do love a man who can dance.

I watched his kilt fling higher and higher, willing it to flip up just enough to give me a good peek.  _God, I’m such a perv!_  After three more ceilidhs, it became sadly apparent that Tom’s kilt was not going to reveal enough for my liking. I would –literally- have to take matters into my own capable hands.

I waited (impatiently) until a dewy and breathless Tom returned to his seat before excusing myself for a cigarette- but not before casting him a look of blatant desire and  _come hither Hiddleston_.

I sashayed out of the function room, across the abandoned foyer and out onto the equally abandoned patio area. The sun had already set, but the expanse of the hotel’s grounds were illuminated by dozens of little lamps and fairy lights strung in the trees.

“Beautiful view,” commented a rich voice behind me. I smiled, slowly turning to face him.

“Ah, so you did take the hint.”

“‘Hint’ is putting it mildly, love, you almost got me off at the dinner table,” Tom remarked, moving towards me. I shrugged- no point in denying it.

“Shall we go for a walk?” I asked, innocently. Tom raised his eyebrow slightly, but gestured for me to take the lead.

I walked along the twisting little path down towards the lake, Tom’s steps crunching in the gravel behind me. I wobbled in my heels, and he drew level, offering the crook of his arm, which I gladly clung to.

It was a little brisk outside, even for mid-Autumn. Tom noticed my suppressed shivers and immediately divested himself of his jacket, gallantly draping it around my shoulders. I blushed slightly, thanking him and trying not to make it too obvious that I was getting high on the smell of his aftershave.

“You asked me earlier if I enjoyed the ceremony, but I have to confess- it was a bit of a torture,” Tom said, seemingly out of thin air. I glanced up at him.

“Why?”

 “Well, I had a hard time walking down the aisle in a straight line with your delectable ass just beyond my reach. I almost forgot how to use my legs,” he boldly admitted. I suppressed a triumphant laugh.

“Oh really? I didn’t even think this dress was particularly flattering…” I said coyly, fishing for more compliments. So sue me. I like when pretty boys tell me pretty things.

“You’d look sensational in anything.”

I paused to lean over the little wooden bridge, staring down into the dark water below. As hoped, Tom stood behind me, his hips only millimetres from my ass. I glanced over my shoulder, giving him the best eye-fuck of my life.

“But I look best in nothing,” I teased, winking.

“Mmm I’ll bet,” Tom hummed lowly, placing his hands on my hips and tracing the curve of my neck with his lips.

“Uh uh,” I scolded, wriggling out of his grasp. I skipped onto a wide expanse of groomed lawn, beckoning Tom to follow. He glanced back at the main building, the music just a faint hum by now, and followed me with a wolfish grin.

I found the perfect spot, right by the lake. It was a bit open-air, but I didn’t reckon anyone would come out this far for a late-night dander. I gaily kicked off my high heels, and twirled around, watching the chiffon skirt of my dress whizz around my ankles.

Tom stood, observing me from a few feet away. I stopped spinning.

“Tom, come lie down here,” I coaxed, pointing to the spot where I stood. He slowly walked forward, never taking his eyes off me.

“If I do, will you join me?” he asked, stopping directly in front of me and peering down his nose.

“That was the plan,” I whispered, mischievously. He nodded, grinning, and folded himself into a sitting position.

I tsked and knelt between his legs; pushing his shoulders down forcefully and straddling him, my dress bunching around my legs. I rocked my pelvis against his, mollified by the way he moaned and rolled his eyes back, even at such a pedestrian action. His hands latched onto my arse, cupping and kneading the ample flesh.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” I confided in a whisper. Tom blinked up at me, surprised.

“You have?”

“Yes. Do you want to know  _specifically_  what I was thinking about?” He nodded so enthusiastically I feared his head may fall off. I leant forwards, pressing my heaving chest against his. Tom’s eyes instantly flickered down to my cleavage, beautifully displayed right in front of him. He licked his lips unconsciously, and I took my chance, nipping his lower lip a bit harder than intended.

“What were you thinking about?” Tom pressed, his voice hushed, as I kissed all around his mouth. His bristly beard was already making my lips tingle, and I made a mental note to enjoy the effect further south later on.

“I was wondering if…you are a  _true Scotsman_ , Mr Hiddleston,” I breathed, nuzzling my nose against his and staring into his darkening eyes. I stroked a stray curl back from his temple, burrowing my fingers into his soft red hair.

He took a moment to catch on.

“You mean…?”

“ _Yes_.” I sat up, took off his jacket and stretched my hand back to slowly peel his kilt up.

“Wait,” Tom said, gripping my exploring hand. I frowned, but he grinned mischievously, his eyes twinkling.

“What?”

“If you want to know the answer…you’ll have to go tongue first,” he said huskily. I stared at him, surprised by this filthy turn of events.

“My my, Mr Hiddleston. How can a girl say no to an offer like that?” I retorted, scratching lightly with my nails before slowly sliding down to straddle his lower legs.

Tom propped himself up on his elbows- all the better to see me.

I flipped my curled hair over one shoulder and bent to my task. I couldn’t resist a bit of teasing, so I sharply bit the tender flesh behind his knee, just above his socks.

“Minx,” he hissed. I smirked, laving the spot with copious wet licks and sweet little kisses.

“For the love of God, get a move on!” He half-pleaded, half-commanded, clearly losing his patience.

“Don’t rush me,” I chided, tracing a little higher with the very tip of my tongue, “I’ve been fantasising about this for hours. Let me enjoy it.”

 Tom groaned, bucking his hips as I began stroking the inside of his other leg with my hand, venturing higher and higher. His thigh muscles were unbelievably solid and strong, tensing and twitching beneath my touch. I sighed theatrically, watching the hairs stand to attention from the gust of warm breath, his skin forming into goose-bumps of excitement.

My mouth traced the same path my hand had taken earlier; my tongue tasting the soft skin of his inner thighs, my nose filled with the smell of pure  _man_  as I got ever closer to my goal.

My lips brushed against something hard and searing hot, and we moaned in unison.

He was bare, of course; a man doesn’t invite you under his kilt unless he has something to show off. And  _holy hell_ , did Tom have some impressive equipment hidden under that tartan.

I wasted no time at all, wetly kissing along the underside of his cock, taking extra care to lick the path work of veins running along it. I caressed the tender skin of his balls, sucking each one into my mouth while scratching my nails onto his inner thighs.

After my cursory exploration, I got down to business: sucking the unmerciful fuck out of Tom’s cock. I sealed my lips around the tumescent head, revelling in the sharp taste of his precum as it coated my tongue. I brought a hand up to tightly fist the base, while the other worked its magic on his balls and perineum.

I sincerely hoped that the music in the function room was still loud, because Tom definitely wasn’t bothering to quieten down his moans and growls.

I bobbed up and down like a mad woman, fighting valiantly against my own gag reflex and the powerful thrusts of Tom’s hips. It was a bit dark, and scratchy, and restrictive under the kilt, but I had Tom’s cock in my mouth and I didn’t give a flying fuck about anything else.

 “Ah  _ah_! Fuck! Stop… I want to fuck you.” He declared in a strained voice, attempting to pull me away. I came up for air, pouting irritably at having been stopped when I was so deliciously close to making him come.

“Go on. Pull up your dress, love. Let me fuck you til you scream,” he whispered darkly, licking his lips as he stared up at me, the curls on the back of his head mushed and wild from all the writhing around he had been doing.

It felt as if my heartbeat was pounding in my cunt, so I happily obliged; hiking my long dress up around my waist and carefully guiding myself onto his impressive staff.

“Oooh,” I moaned, shutting my eyes at the feeling of his girth stretching me. Tom’s hand grabbed around my waist, yanking my strapless bodice down until my breasts slipped free.

 “Fuck, your tits are magnificent,” he groaned, reaching out to cup them with his big hands.

“Funny, I was just about the say the same about your cock,” I retorted breathlessly, shifting until I felt him nudging at my cervix. I wailed and shut my eyes, enjoying the mixture of pain and utmost pleasure- he was undoubtedly the best-endowed gent I had ever had the pleasure of fucking.

I placed my hands on his waistcoat and raised myself up, beginning a steady rhythm of bouncing up and down, occasionally swirling my hips in a way that made both of us cry out.

Tom became more frantic, my earlier blow job no doubt meaning that his need for release was even greater than mine; he planted his soles on the grass and began thrusting up into me with all his might, the tendons on his flushed neck standing out as stark evidence of his effort.

I tipped my head back and wailed to the stars appearing in the sky as Tom began circling my clit with the pad of his thumb, pushing and coaxing my orgasm out of me.

“Fuck! Tom, I’m going to-”

“Me-  _ah!_ \- too! Fuck! Come-”

My orgasm hit me like a ton of bricks, and I was helpless to muffle the scream that tore itself from my lips. Tom pounded into me a few more times before stiffening and throwing his head back with a long, guttural moan as he came inside me.

My arms shook and I slipped down to lie on his chest, slowly rolling off to the side and lying on my back on the grass, staring up at the dark sky in bedazzled wonderment.

“Holy fuck,” whispered Tom, his voice hoarse and gravelly.

“You took the words right out of my mouth,” I wheezed, trying to catch my breath. The little beads of sweat on my chest and neck started to cool in the night air, leaving a less-than-pleasant feeling.

We lay in companionable silence for many minutes, savouring the buzzing aftermath that only comes from the best sex.

“Do you know what would be fantastic right now?” Tom mused, tucking his arm behind his head.

I turned my face towards him, admiring his sharp profile.

“A towel? A hot bath?”

“A cigarette and a bottle of Middleton’s.” I laughed.

“I’ve got cigarettes in my clutch.”

He kissed my earlobe and sat up.

“I’ll get the whiskey,” he said, carefully helping me to my feet and brushing the blades of grass from my dress as I tugged it back into a respectable formation.

“Meet back here in 10?

He caught my arm and pulled me back. Plucking the small red rose from his jacket, he carefully tucked it behind my ear.

“Best make it five. I’m nearly ready for round two,” he murmured, nuzzling his nose against mine.

I stepped back and pressed my fingers to his lips.

“On one condition…”

“Anything,” he said, slightly muffled.

“…I want that beard of yours between my legs, Dreamboat.”

“ _Deal_.”


End file.
